Anchored, page 13
I said a little prayer and moved forward. I could do this. I had to do this.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nick held my arm as we proceeded out the gate. “Don’t get us killed,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. The four guys from the jail followed closely behind. A platoon of Marines took up the rear. Trucks and jeeps were lining up behind all of us.
“I’ll do my best,” I whispered. “Nick, thank you for staying with me.”
Nick shrugged. “I had to. Takumi would kick my butt if I let anything happen to you.”
I grinned, then grew serious. “I’m worried about Takumi.”
“He’ll be fine. But right now, we need to focus on ending this thing. We have to get back to the boat.” Nick stared straight ahead.
I squared my shoulders and followed his gaze.
A haze of smoke bellowed up from two large dumpsters near the gate. The smoke hung over the cement freeway that had once been an impromptu camp. The dumpsters were dented, but still recognizable. Whatever they were doing was making more noise than harm. I was especially relieved that they hadn’t blown up any military vehicles.
The small family tents and warm fires that had filled the freeway earlier were gone. Litter and clothing blew across the roadway, and piled up against the abandoned cars and freeway dividers. I wondered what had happened to our gear.
The smoke cleared as we approached three cement barricades that had been placed to block the road. Six men popped up from behind it. Five of them held a Molotov cocktail in their hand. The sixth was a burly man who held a gun.
“That’s far enough,” the man with the gun cried.
I motioned for our little group to halt. We were next to the banged-up jeep I’d stood on to try and stop the riot. “We need a white flag. Anyone have a…”
Nick took off his jacket. Underneath he wore what had once been a white tee. He pulled it over his head and handed it to me, then shivered as he put his jacket back on.
I waved the t-shirt over my head and yelled, “We come in peace!”
“What? We’re aliens now?” Nick chuckled.
“It was the first thing that came to me.” I kept waving.
A middle-aged burly man pointed his pistol at us. The younger men with unlit Molotov cocktails stood tall beside him.
Nick pulled me back by my jacket. “Stay back. I’ll talk to them.”
“No! It’s my job. I promised Major Conrad,” I insisted. “Besides, I’ve had a lot of practice telling our story lately.”
Nick reluctantly released my coat, but remained by my side. I checked back as I walked away. Major Conrad flashed ten fingers and then five. I had fifteen minutes.
“What do you want?” the burly man said.
I yelled across the parking lot filled with tents as loudly as I could. “We just want to talk. We’re part of your group. We were waiting to get inside the camp too. When the riots started, we got thrown in jail. We’re unarmed. Show yourself. Please.”
A voice shouted out from the tall grass that was growing beside the freeway. “Why are sailors with guns standing back there?”
“We’re here to make peace. If you agree to let the convoys through, the military will help you resettle,” I yelled back.
One by one heads popped up from behind random cement barricades, abandoned cars, and weeds.
The man with the gun lowered it.
One of the men who’d been in the brig took off running while screaming, “Bri.” A woman met him. They threw their arms around one another.
“Daddy!” A toddler and a girl around eleven stood up in the grass, and cried. Their father, another man from the brig, sprinted to his kids. The girl held her baby brother’s hand and sobbed.
Another man from the jail stepped in front of me. “Stacey! Where are you?”
A woman in the tall grass rose up with a baby in her arms. She stumbled forward, blinded by the tears in her eyes. Tim caught her just before she and the baby hit the pavement.”
A small crowd came forward to watch the reunions. When the sobs died down, I cleared my throat. “My name is Toni. I met some of you two days ago. My friends and I were the ones who warned you that the military was pulling out.”
Someone in the crowd booed.
“No. Don’t boo. These brave Marines and Navy sailors have been here for almost two
months. They set up the refugee camp that was supposed to house and feed five hundred people. Over a thousand have been helped. But, they have run out of supplies. Nobody could have been prepared for this big of a disaster.”
“They’re just keeping food for themselves,” someone in the crowd yelled.
“No!” I pointed inland. “That’s not true. The sailors have been ordered to help people who are trapped by snow and ice. People who have run out of fuel, food, and hope. That’s why they’re leaving.”
“But we’re out of food, too.”
“There’s no water.”
“What about us? Where are we supposed to go?”
Nick and I grew closer to the gathered crowd.
“You’re scared. We all are. But we can help ourselves.” I pleaded with the man who’d said he was out of water. “The Tijuana River is full of fresh water. It’s only a few miles away. Our water problem is easy to solve. Fresh water is the biggest problem most people face.”
“Who are you to tell us what our problems are. You’re just a kid.”
“Yeah. Why should we listen to you?”
I sought out the men who had just spoken. “My friends and I survived for a month living off the land. Before the tsunami, we got on a sailboat in Seattle and sailed out to sea. We went over the giant wave before it crested. After the tsunami, we sailed down the coast with the cold following us. We lived on seaweed, fish, seagull eggs, and even snake meat. If my friends and I can do it, you can too.”
“We don’t have a sailboat to live on.”
“No, but you have tents. You can fix up the boats in the harbor. All of you have skills. Skills that you can share. Major Conrad is willing to help. He’s asking some of his troops to volunteer to stay behind and help us move. His sailors even found farms with working wells some of you might want to hike to.”
“Farms? We talked about trying to find a farm,” a woman holding a baby cried out.
“We’d love to try farming too,” another said.
“Great. So, let’s move these barricades before it’s too late.” I said.
The burly man stood to view the sailors behind us. “Too late? What do you mean?” I stepped up to the cement barricade and the men protesting behind it. “Major Conrad gave me twenty minutes to talk you into leaving. If you don’t, the sailors will move you. They have a mission. Trapped and desperate people are waiting to be rescued by them.”
“Really? Well, they’ll have to get by us,” the burly man said and raised his gun.
“Jim!” A woman with bright red hair and gray roots stepped to the barricade. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t go up against U.S. Marines with a few Molotov cocktails and handguns.”
Jim scowled at her.
The gathered crowd shuffled their feet. A few yelled for Jim to give up.
Jim stubbornly shook his gun at me.
I looked back at Major Conrad. He held up ten fingers. “Now we have ten minutes. Put your gun down and move the barricades.”
“And if we don’t?” Jim’s eyes narrowed.
“They will come through you. You will be hurt or worse.”
Jim cocked his gun. “Let them try.”
I held up my hand. “Sure. You might hurt some of his men. But what will that prove? You’re being given a way out. A way where everyone wins.”
“She’s right,” a man at the barrier laid his bottle bomb down and walked away. The men who’d joined their families followed his lead. A tall thin man got into the beat-up old jeep and started it up. He backed to the first cement barricade, attached ropes to it, and the first barricade was dragged away.
Jim leaned against the one he stood behind. “I don’t trust your major. I want him to come here and tell me himself.”
“He isn’t going talk to you if you’re waving that gun.”
“Enough!” The red-haired woman stood in front of me. “Jim, you won. You got what you wanted. The Navy is going to help us.”
Jim’s wife took Jim’s gun, handed it to Nick, and led Jim away from the barrier. I heard her whispering words of comfort.
I turned and motioned for Major Conrad to send his troops to help move the last barricades and glanced at my cell: Two minutes left.
****
When the blockade was totally cleared, the convoy began rolling past us. I took a deep breath as the last truck pulled away. There’d been almost forty vehicles, and not one shot had been fired at them.
A man I recognized from the brig wandered over to where Nick and I stood. He was accompanied by a Marine with bandages on his head.
“You stopped a massacre,” the man said. “We’ll talk to everyone here and tell them what Major Conrad promised.”
“I’ll do what I can,” I croaked. With all the yelling, my voice was hoarse.
“You did good.” Nick put his arm around me. We leaned on each other. Now that the immediate danger was over, I felt utterly exhausted.
The man with the head bandages held out his hand and stared at me. “I remember you. You stood on top of my jeep during the riots. I’m Lieutenant Wilson. My friends call me Kevin.”
“I’m Toni. So, so glad you’re okay. You were bleeding pretty badly.” I gestured at Nick. “This is Nick.”
Nick and Kevin shook hands. “Nick. So, you’re Toni’s boyfriend?”
Nick squeezed my shoulders. “Before the tsunami, Toni was my best friend’s annoying little sister. Now she’s my captain and good friend.”
“Captain?” Kevin looked curious.
“It’s a long story,” Nick said, then smiled.
I held my hand to my throat. “And, I’ve told it enough times for one day,” I said.
“Agreed.” Nick laughed.
Kevin’s radio went off. “Yes, Sir.” Kevin replied. “We’ll be right there.”
I sighed. “Let me guess. Major Conrad wants to see us.”
“The rest of the vehicles are pulling out later today. Lots to do.”
“Are you heading out too?” I asked Kevin.
“Would you like me to stay?” he asked in a flirty tone.
Nick’s eyebrows cinched. He looked at me and then at Kevin.
I punched Nick in the arm. “Let’s see what Major Conrad wants, then go find Takumi.” Without a look back, I took off.
“Takumi? Who’s Takumi?” Kevin yelled.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The breeze that had come up earlier was now blowing hard. Whistler was supposed to be waiting for us at the Tijuana River basin a few miles away. I hoped the crew had found shelter from the wind someplace.
Bits of clothing, paper, and ash from the abandoned fire pits flew across the pavement. Dust got into my eyes, and I had to stop to wipe them. I held a hand over my face as Nick, Kevin, and I marched through the gates.
It was a relief when we entered the sheltered area between the camp and freeway entrance. I found Major Conrad and his assistant huddled over a clipboard.
He looked up as we approached. “That went well.”
I stepped aside to let a guy juggling boxes pass by. “Yes, it did. All the people needed was a little hope.”
He signed a document then flipped the page. “Now it is up to us to provide for them.”
Nick pushed some desks aside to make more room.
Major Conrad tuned the clipboard around so we could read it. “Our sailors collected names out there. Two hundred and eighty-six people asked to travel to resettlement areas with the rest of the camp refugees.”
“That’s a lot.” I stared at the names.
“We have five hundred more than we were prepared for at the camp.” He flipped a page over.
“What will you do?” I asked.
“What we promised them.” He studied the next page, as if looking for an answer.
“I told them you were assigning Marines and Navy volunteers to help them get settled elsewhere.”
“I need to get back to HQ and see how the packing is going. I will know what I can do when I see how many sailors have volunteered to stay here and help.” Major Conrad closed the file and handed it off.
“Sir?” I asked.
Nick smirked at my sudden military correctness.
I ignored him and said it again: “Sir, my boyfriend has been in the hospital since the first riot. I’d like to go to see if he is well enough to leave with us.”
Nick jumped in. “And our cell phones and my ship radio were taken by your sailors. I think they’re at the brig. Can I get them?”
Major Conrad turned to Kevin. “Lieutenant Wilson, please escort these two to the medical tent, the brig, and then head back to HQ. We’re pulling out in four hours.”
“Yes, Sir,” Kevin said. “Follow me.”
He took off and never bothered to look back. Nick and I followed him down a path between the remaining large white tents. Already the base was beginning to feel partially abandoned. Trucks and jeeps were being hastily loaded.
“The brig.” Nick pointed up ahead. “Let’s stop there first.”
When Kevin didn’t respond, I did. “Okay, but hurry. We need to get Takumi out of the med tent before it gets loaded up.”
Nick spun off to the brig.
“Who’s Takumi? Why’s he in the hospital?” Kevin asked.
I looked around for somewhere to sit. “Takumi is my boyfriend. He was shot the night of the first riot.” I pulled a box over and tested it. Whatever was in it, seemed solid. “The bullet just grazed him.”
“That’s good. I mean, not good that he got shot, but good it was a minor injury.” Kevin found a tall plastic barrel and rolled it over. “Feels good to sit.”
“Yeah, it does,” I took a deep breath. “So, how did you end up here?”
He looked around. “We kinda have a rule not to talk about the before. It’s hard, you know.”
“Oh. Okay. I know it’s hard, but I didn’t know there was a rule.”
We sat in silence, watching the tent flap Nick had disappeared behind.
Kevin studied the cloudy afternoon sky and sighed. “I always wanted to be a Marine. My dad retired from the Navy and my cousin and uncle are in the Coast Guard. My grandfather was a Marine. When I got accepted to the Naval Academy, it was the happiest day of my life.”
“I bet your family was proud.”
“They were. I got stationed on a ship in the Mediterranean, right off. Man, was I excited. Off to see the world and all. And I did. Aboard some awesome ships. And almost every leave, I traveled to a different country.”
“I never thought of the military like that.”
“Did you think all we did was fight? Our real job is to protect, and keep wars from starting in the first place.”
“I like that.”
“Our ship needed repairs. We like to use our own bases. I was hoping for Hawaii. Good thing we didn’t head there. Anyway, we sailed to San Diego. That was about three months ago. When we got word that the tsunami was coming, the brass sent the ship out with a skeleton crew to ride over the crest. The Marines and sailors who stayed on land, drove what equipment and supplies we could, into the mountains. When it was all over, we came back and built this camp.”
“That was smart,” I said.
“My best friend left on a destroyer. It hasn’t been heard from.” He shifted. “All the sailors and Marines here have similar stories. That’s why we don’t go there.”
“I’m so sorry about your friend. Do you know where your family ended up?”
Two Marines stopped to salute. Kevin saluted back. “You really want to hit all the tough buttons, don’t you?”
“Just making small talk. Are families part of the rule too?”
“Yes, but I’m better off than most. I have a military family. After the first few days, I
was able to use the base radio to check on everyone. Most service men and women couldn’t reach their families, and are having a hard time with that. Many have deserted. The military finally agreed that head of households could leave and bring their families back to the base. Single Marines and sailors however, had to stay.
We stepped out of the way as sheets of plywood were brought out of the tent and loaded into a truck.
“Where are your people, now?” I sat back down.
“Mom died a few years ago. My sister and her family are stationed in Texas. My dad lives in Phoenix. My uncle has an interesting story. He was the Commander of a Coast Guard vessel. They sent his ship out to try to ride the wave. When his ship went down, he and many of his crew survived in lifeboats. It was a scary few days before we heard from him. But he’s stationed in Santa Barbara now.”
“Really? I know a Commander Wilson who is in Santa Barbara.”
Kevin looked surprised. “Really. Is he an older man with thick gray hair?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
Kevin smiled. “You know my uncle. He’s a tough old bird. He and his crew were in the life raft for days. They would have died if some kids hadn’t helped them out. He was floating around somewhere off the coast of Washington.”
I chuckled. “All we did was give him some soda and gas.”
Kevin bolted upright. “What! Those kids, that was you? You saved him?”
A sailor carrying two sawhorses passed by.
“We didn’t do much. We were pretty banged up ourselves. Your uncle tried to confiscate our sailboat. We made him back off. But, then we gave him some gas for his engine, and sodas.”
He stared at me. “I can’t believe this. It was you.”
“Well, not just me. Me and the rest of the crew of Whistler.”
Kevin shook his head in disbelief.
“And later he rescued us? We’d sailed into a tight bay on Santa Cruz Island and couldn’t get the boat turned around to sail out. Your uncle showed up and towed us clear of the cliffs. So, I guess we’re even.”
